Trade
by redbeangurl
Summary: Kenshin makes Hiko an offer he can't refuse. Slashy waters ahead...


Disclaimer: Kenshin is not mine, much as I would like him to be.  
  
This is my first kenfic, as well as my first bit of smut....lets just see where it goes, shall we?  
  
This takes place during the Kyoto arc, when Kenshin goes to finish his training with Hiko. I'm working mostly off of the Manga, though it should fit with the anime just as well.  
  
So...what if Misao had been just a little bit longer in figuring out where Kenshin had gone....?  
  
muaha  
  
***  
  
"I made a mistake," said Hiko, "in teaching you the techniques of the Hiten Misturugi Ryu. For fifteen years, you have done nothing but follow the whims of others. The Patriots, the Meiji government...it's all the same. You've become nothing more than a weapon, and you're too much of a fool to even realize it." He stood, towering over Kenshin with a look of pure disdain on his face. "Go back to your new masters, Himura. I have no time for you."   
  
Kenshin stared up at him with wide, violet eyes. Hiko Seijuuro had never been an accommodating man, but such a complete rejection was beyond even the worst of Kenshin's expectations. He felt the first twinge of panic in his chest. "But...but Master, you can't...you can't just turn me away like this..."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I need you to teach me...to pass on the final secrets so that I can win this fight..." said Kenshin, lowering his gaze. "Because thousands of people will die if I fail! Shishio -- "  
  
"Is a product of your own stupidity."  
  
"That doesn't matter! All that matters is that I stop him before he destroys the peace we've fought so hard to create! Before he tears this country apart!"   
  
"I remain unconvinced," said Hiko cooly. "Now. If you're finished, I have work to do." He brushed past the younger man, bumping him rather harder than was necessary, and was most of the way to the door before Kenshin could even think of a response.  
  
Desperation was starting to take hold. He could not let it end like this. He could not leave without the succession techniques. But it seemed that explanations were not going to be enough. He pushed himself to his feet and turned, catching a fistful of Hiko's cloak. "Master!" he hissed, eyes shut tight. "Please..."  
  
Hiko stopped walking, but he did not turn around. "Begging doesn't suit you," he said quietly. "What happened to that proud young swordsman who left me all those years ago?"  
  
"This is more important than pride," Kenshin whispered, tightening his grip on the thick, white fabric of the cloak. "Innocent lives are at stake. The people are suffering, and thousands more will join them if I don't -- "  
  
"This is all sounding very familiar," said Hiko. "It seems my idiot student will never change. Always so eager to sacrifice himself for the greater good."  
  
"Shishio is a madman who thrives on destruction. If I can't stop him, all of Japan will pay for it."  
  
"Have you considered that you might be overestimating your importance?"  
  
"You know better than that," said Kenshin. "You taught me. You know what I can do."  
  
"I know what you could have done, if you'd bothered to finish your training," said Hiko. "Now let go of me and leave."  
  
"Master --"  
  
"Stop calling me that. I'm not your master anymore. Your problems are your own to solve."  
  
He started to pull away, his cloak sliding through Kenshin's fingers.  
  
_No, _thought Kenshin. _It can't end like this. I can't just let him...but what can I do? What can I possibly offer that....that he..._ And then he remembered._  
  
_"If you don't want me to beg for your help," he said aloud, letting go of the cloak. "Then perhaps you'll allow me to trade for it."  
  
Hands shaking just slightly, he began to unfasten the knots at his waist. Hiko turned at the rustling of fabric, and his eyes widened as Kenshin's hakama slid down onto the floor.  
  
"What...are you doing...?"  
  
"Offering a trade," said Kenshin, stepping out of the puddle of cloth at his feet. He slipped his kimono off of his shoulders. It, too, was dropped onto the floor.  
  
"Stop it," said Hiko shortly. "You're embarrassing yourself."  
  
"I told you this was more important than pride," said Kenshin, his voice flat. He was dressed in nothing but a loincloth, now, and his fingers were loosening the knot.   
  
"I preferred it when you were begging," said Hiko. He sounded hoarse. "At least that was sane behavior. I can't imagine why you'd think that this would convince me of anything."  
  
"You've no doubt told yourself," Kenshin murmured, "that I was too young to understand, or to notice." He began to slowly unwind the fabric from his hips, rolling it neatly into a ball. "But I saw the boys you met in town. And I know what you did to them." The loincloth and his tabi joined the rest of his clothes. "And I saw the way you looked at me."  
  
Hiko swallowed hard, his eyes fixed very carefully on Kenshin's face. "This is completely inappropriate, as well as shameful. I am your master, and you --"  
  
"I thought you said you weren't my master anymore."  
  
"Your elder, then. And I'm telling you to get dressed and leave."  
  
"I'm sorry," Kenshin whispered. "I can't do that." He took a careful step forward.   
  
The vulnerability of being nude in an unfamiliar place made Kenshin intensely aware of his surroundings. The rough mats under his feet. The tangy earth smell of clay and glazes. The sigh of wind-stirred leaves. The rasp of Hiko's breath, quickened by anxiety. The whisper of Kenshin's own footsteps as he padded across the space that divided them.  
  
"This...this is..." Hiko whispered, his eyes closed his brow furrowed. "You can't..." But Kenshin raised a hand to his master's lips, quieting them, and with the other he gently pushed the cloak aside.   
  
Hiko turned his head, pulling away. "You don't know what you're doing."  
  
Kenshin answered by sliding his hands into the opening of Hiko's kimono, brushing his fingertips over the chiseled musculature so unlike his own. He leaned in, forehead resting against the broad chest just under the ribcage, palms working their way to the small of Hiko's back and then sliding to the font again underneath his belt. Hiko gasped when one of them dipped down lower, fingers wrapping around him. And he did not protest as the other teased over sensitive places and loosened fastenings, until his clothes were forgotten on the mats and the whole length of the smaller man's body was pressed against him, warm and solid in the chill, damp air.   
  
"Tell me what to do," Kenshin whispered, lips brushing against Hiko's skin. "Tell me what you want from me."  
  
Hiko raised a trembling hand and brought it up to stroke Kenshin's hair. He came to the cloth tie that fastened it and stopped. "I always preferred it when you wore this down," he murmured, pulling at the knot. The long, red strands fell lose around Kenshin's shoulders, tickling all the way down his back, making him shiver.   
  
Kenshin knelt in front of him, hands wandering restlessly over his stomach, his legs, his hips, his buttocks. Hiko moaned gently as the other man nuzzled against him, taunting his desire with soft lips and warm breath. And he gasped at the sudden, hot wetness of Kenshin's mouth.  
  
Hiko faltered under this assault, knees buckling as his grip on Kenshin's shoulders tightened. What his student lacked in skill he more than made up for with enthusiasm. Or maybe it was desperation.   
  
Hiko pulled away and knelt in front of Kenshin. Even like this, he was still so much taller. He pulled the younger man forward, capturing his mouth with his own and tasting what he had denied himself for so many years. His fingers tangled in red hair, tipping back Kenshin's head so that the long, slender curve of his neck was exposed. Hiko bit and licked and kissed his way down his jaw, along his collar bone. He pushed him down onto the neatly folded bedding, his mouth seeking out the tight buds of his nipples, the trembling hollows of his stomach, the sharp swells of his hipbones. Kenshin gasped and shuddered beneath him, feeding his desire until it threatened to overwhelm him.  
  
He pushed himself up until the two of them were face to face.   
  
"Kenshin," he whispered hoarsely, almost choking on the name that he, himself, had given. "Look at me."   
  
Kenshin's eyes fluttered open, wide and unfocused. "Seijuuro..."  
  
"You don't have to do this."  
  
"No," Kenshin murmured. "I want to. A trade. It's only...only fair..." He closed his eyes again and smiled. "I want to. Please..."  
  
In the state he was in, it enough to quiet the last of Hiko's doubts. Eyes never leaving Kenshin's face, he reached for a wooden bowl of slip on one of the shelves. Kenshin hissed at the shock of cool, slick water dripping onto his thighs. The unspoken question was answered a moment later as Hiko pushed inside of him.  
  
Kenshin was no stranger to pain. He had felt the bite of a sword more times than he could recall, had brushed with death on countless occasions and pushed himself farther than any man should be able to. Pain and suffering he was used to. But pleasure as he felt in that instant was almost entirely alien to him, and he was helpless in the face of it. As Hiko thrust against him, reaching places inside of him he hadn't known existed, crushing him delightfully with his weight and his scent and the heat of his breath....Kenshin was lost to the world.  
  
Time had not unmade the bond they had forged; their bodies were as tuned to each other as they had been fifteen years ago. And so they came as one, tensing in the same moment, then collapsing together against the futons in a tangle of limbs.  
  
Kenshin relaxed against Hiko's chest, curled in the powerful circle of his arms, listening as his heartbeat slowed. "Seijuuro..."  
  
"Hmm?" Hiko buried his face in Kenshin's hair, breathing deeply of his scent.  
  
"Teach me the succession techniques of Hiten Misturugi Ryu," Kenshin murmured, smiling.  
  
"Maybe," said Hiko. 


End file.
